Mon Cher Coeur
by Rose Evanescent
Summary: When Snape and Hermione end up on the student trip to Paris, they react to each other like fire and water. But as soon as a spell backfires, sending them far from the group, they must cope together to get back. Soon Severus and Hermione find they have more in common than they ever imagined… Please R&R!
1. Waste of Paint

_I have a friend, he's mostly made of pain._  
_He wakes up, drives to work, and then straight back home again._  
_He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper._  
_I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a record cover._  
_And I tried to tell him he had a sense_  
_of color and composition so magnificent._  
_And he said "Thank you, please but your flattery_  
_is truly not becoming me._  
_Your eyes are poor. You are blind. You see,_  
_no beauty could have come from me._  
_I am a waste of breath, of space, of time."_

~ "**Waste of Paint**," Bright Eyes

Snape dug his bitten-down nails into the train seat, sweating profusely as his dreams swallowed him in their swarthy oblivion.

Fists struck him, scraping skin off his face with their bony knuckles. Words slashed like knives, beat him as much as the hands. Knives stuck between his ribs, slipping through his skin so easily with their searing pain.

Severus tried to writhe away from the agony, cries drawn from his lips, but nothing could stop the hurt. The nightmare had swallowed him completely.

Out of the black void rose a ghostly face robed in its long white beard. Snape felt a fire engulf his heart completely, licking flames of pain.

"_Severus_," Dumbledore rasped, extending a skeletal, withered hand. "_Your soul, Severus. Your soul_."

"What of my soul?" Severus gasped through the agony, clutching at his wounds and feeling hot blood gushing over his hands.

"_Your soul. Your soul. Your soul…_"

Suddenly the sound of tiny pincers infected the air, the noise of millions of tiny feet.

A wave of red ants engulfed Snape, crawling over his skin. Biting and pinching, they entered every orifice, sliced into his flesh. Hypodermic needle stings tore deep into him. Snape swatted and yelled as he was eaten, ants wriggling between rivers of blood flowing from his body. They creeped into his nostrils, forced open his mouth, snuck into his ears…

Forcing out one last breath, Snape cried out with all the air and agony in his lungs:

"My _soul_!"

A hand shook Severus awake. Rapping his head against the luggage rack as he sat up rapidly, he yelped and snapped his eyes open. The professor carriage of the train around him was calm as it rattled out of the Chunnel and into the light of France.

Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and Slughorn sat around Snape, eyeing him curiously. Smoothing down the light blue shirt and tan slacks he had donned for the class trip to Paris, the Slytherin professor looked about, feeling cold sweat on his forehead. "W-what is it?" he asked.

"You were…yelling in your dreams, Severus," Slughorn explained, knitting his white brow. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, Horace," Snape muttered, nodding acknowledgement at the kindly professor.

"Anything I can get for you?" Pomona Sprout questioned. "Perhaps I could brew you a calming tea of some sort?"

"No…but thank you," Severus replied, standing up and running his fingers through his long, ink-black hair. "It's only this stupid Muggle transportation system. I just need…a little fresh air. That's all." Walking out of the carriage and shutting the door behind him, Severus leaned against the railing between the carts, balancing on the rattling iron link.

His lips itched for a cigarette between them, but he had none of those things on him. Smoking was a habit Snape had relapsed into after the end of the Wizarding War, after his encounter with death.

Brushing a hand over his neck, Severus felt the two puncture wound scars where Nagini had bitten him at the command of Voldemort in the boat house. Luckily, Severus had managed to hang on to life until Harry Potter's golden trio arrived and saved him. He faded in and out of consciousness, but he recalled a hand resting on him, sweet words whispered, and new flesh covering his wounds.

They had saved his life.

Severus had to do a lot of work to return to Hogwarts. The bravery he had exhibited protecting Harry was justified, and though he was responsible for Dumbledore's death – which caused much upset from the students – Snape won his way back into the hearts of all the professors with a humble and quiet attitude. McGonagall was trying to warm up to him, but she explained she couldn't even sit in the same carriage as him on the train for the trip.

Snape exhaled. He still had work to do.

Obsidian-black eyes flickering up, Snape gazed through the glass window of the student carriage. Hogwarts students dressed in street clothes of jeans and hoodies, shorts and T-shirts, chatted in their seats, eager to arrive in Paris soon.

Suddenly, he saw _her_.

Checking each student with a nod of her head and signature smile, Hermione Granger walked down the aisle of the carriage, clutching an organized clipboard to her breast. Her hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, a bushel of auburn curls fashioned tightly together. She wore an attractive pinstriped business suit tailored to her every curve. She looked extremely professional.

Strangely, Severus felt a teasing tug in his lower torso. Hermione looked _delectable_.

But what on earth was she doing here on the Hogwarts class trip? She should've been long gone from the school after the Second Wizarding War.

Shaking his head, Snape tried to ignore this feeling and stumbled back into the professor carriage, straightening his tie as he went. He was about to inquire as to why the just-graduated Granger was on the trip to Paris with them when he noticed Professor McGonagall standing before Sprout, Flitwick, and Slughorn.

The older lady, dressed in black dress pants and a cardigan made of her signature olive crushed-velvet, snapped her eyes on Severus. "Hello, Professor. Nice of you to join us," she quipped tartly. "I'd thought you'd thrown yourself off the train. It would certainly be an improvement for our morale."

Swallowing that remark with his pride, Snape fiddled with his tie. "I apologize, Minerva. But I am here now, and I am ready to escort the children as you see fit."

"Well now, you're being useful. We'll all take our bags off the train and divide the students into four groups to be led by myself, Slughorn, Sprout, and Flitwick."

"What about…me?" Severus murmured.

"You are to be with my group. You will serve as an extra teacher."

Snape nodded at this even though he wilted inside. She didn't even trust him enough to let him usher a group of Hogwarts students around Paris.

Gathering their bags, they filed out of the train. Slughorn gave Snape a sympathetic look as the Slytherin professor fumbled with his one case of luggage. Horace remembered years back when Snape was a student at Hogwarts, with his head kept low for all the bullying he endured.

Slughorn recalled the lost and fragile look of love Severus held in his eyes whenever he saw Lily Evans. He remembered how it was dashed when she died. Now all that dwelt in Snape's eyes was a black void so deep and cruel no light could survive it.

"Severus?" Slughorn said, putting a meaty hand on the professor's shoulder. Snape turned, surprised at the touch.

"Yes, Horace?"

"I want you to know that we're still here for you. Pomona and Filius and I. Especially me. Minerva will warm up to you eventually. If you need anything, my door will always be open. I know life has been…_hard_ for you lately."

Severus looked at the ground, unsure of how to reply to such kind words. "Thank you. I…will come to you if I need to talk. Thank you for offering. But now I need to go to Minerva. I need to show her that…I'm still worthy. Or at least I'm trying to be."

Severus turned away from Horace and stepped out of the carriage, leaving a pity-filled eyed professor behind. Slughorn wished some angel could descend and fill Snape's eyes with happiness for once in his sorrow-filled life.

_But then, my knees give under me._  
_My head feels weak and suddenly_  
_it's clear to see that it's not them but me,_  
_who has lost my self-identity._  
_As I hide behind these books I read,_  
_while scribbling my poetry,_  
_like art could save a wretch like me,_  
_with some ideal ideology_  
_that no one can hope to achieve._  
_And I am never real; it is just a sketch of me._  
_And everything I made is trite and cheap_  
_and a waste of paint, of tape, of time._

"**Waste of Paint**," Bright Eyes

Hermione grinned as she emerged into the fresh air of France. Every breath was crisp and clean, just how she liked it. Pulling her rolling luggage behind her as she strutted out onto the street with other students, Hermione was too distracted by the lovely sights of the new city that she barely noticed the professor walking in front of her…

"_Oof_!"

Stumbling backwards, Hermione gaped and looked up to see the tall, slender figure of Severus Snape looking at her. Dazed, he caught her wrist so she wouldn't fall.

Breath caught at her lips. Hermione did not expect to see him here at all.

"Miss Granger…" Snape sputtered.

"I apologize, Professor," Hermione cut. "I…wasn't looking where I was going." A note of bitterness laced her quick, clipped voice. Snape, the man who had killed Albus Dumbledore, was not to be greeted too cordially by Hermione. Still, the appearance of her teacher seemed to make her heart skip a beat.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh." Hermione tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear curtly. "I went back to Hogwarts to take my N.E.W.T.s and finish up my last year. Recently, the Ministry of Magic hired me – Mr. Shacklebolt recommended me – and I am currently fighting for house elf rights. Professor McGonagall urged that I come along on this Paris trip with the students as an aide. I recently learned some French and know the area fairly well so…here I am."

"Well, your knowledge would certainly be appreciated by the children."

Hermione looked away so Snape wouldn't see the blush rise on her cheeks. "Thank you, Professor. I guess my question for you now is…why are _you_ here?"

"Ah..." Snape began, scratching the back of his neck. "Minerva rehired me. I've been trying to get my job back as a semi-decent professor at Hogwarts. I guess she rehired me because I don't really have anywhere else to go."

"_Professor_!"

Hermione and Snape turned to see McGonagall, who looked like an utterly frustrated hen at this point. "Will you two please stop chattering for one minute and help me with the students? I believe that is your _job_, Professor Snape, even if Miss Granger graciously _agreed_ to help me with the trip."

Flushing, Severus nodded to Hermione and went straight to Minerva. Raising a golden-brown eyebrow, the young lady clutched her clipboard closer and her chest. Despite her coldness to the tall, dark, and Slytherin professor, she recalled younger days when he would teach.

Secretly Hermione had harbored a crush for Snape starting around her fifth year. But who could she tell about her infatuation? Everyone else thought him slimy and depressing, straight as a board with strict rules and embarrassing, barbed remarks. But the studious Hermione found this challenging and exciting, and whenever she still stung from Ron's daftness towards her or Draco's cruel remarks, she sought out Snape's class as a rest, a haven for a moment. Most of all Hermione admired the way his brow creased and uncreased when he was thinking in those quiet moments when everyone was taking their tests. It was as if she could see Snape's entire thought process. Hermione cherished the moments when his hardness faded, and she could see the smoothness of his chiseled features like they were once happy. She had wanted so badly to see him _happy_.

Brushing this thought out of her mind, Hermione tugged at her rolling luggage bag and followed the pack of students. How could she think sentimental things about the man who killed the headmaster? It was shameful. Wrong.

Hermione told herself to stop it at once and tugged a curtain over her features, one of sternness and strength, and shouldered on.


	2. Cathedral Song

_You saw me from the cathedral_  
_Well I'm an ancient heart_  
_Yes, you saw me from the cathedral _

_Well here we are just falling apart_

_You catch me_  
_I am tired_  
_I want all that you are_

_I saw you from the cathedral_  
_You were leaving me_  
_And I saw from the cathedral_  
_You could not see to see_

_So take my lies_  
_And take my time_  
_'Cos all the others want to take my life_

~ "**Cathedral Song**," by Tanita Tikaram

Snape, now wearing his black jacket to ward off the cold, gazed about the chapel in the famous cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris, taking in the entire glory of the church. Lights hit the colored columns at haunting angles, and the Hogwarts students flitted in and out of the waxed pews, some snapping photos, some chatting, some praying. McGonagall kneeled in the first row, head bowed in prayer. Severus never really believed in a God, but at least he could admire the vast beauty of the cathedral. It was so open, so cold, sound resonating from every stone-cut corner.

So _holy_.

Notre Dame seemed even holier with Hermione Granger in it, standing by one of the few stained glass windows, her dark eyes fixated on the crucifix. Even if she had tamed her wild hair much more than her younger days when it would be a giant frizzy ball of auburn fluff, it still maintained a few stray scraps. These frizzy hairs framed her head and gave her a sort of halo Snape had never noticed before.

A trace of a smile crossed his face. She looked like an angel.

"Professor…perhaps you can help me solve this problem," Professor Sprout stated, approaching Snape. Her portly frame was lost in a mess of maps as she twisted and turned them and tried to locate her destination. "I'm trying to find the Eiffel Tower…oh, you'd think it wouldn't be too hard to find…"

"_Pomona_," Severus soothed, taking her shoulder and stopping her so she would look at him. "You just stand right there, and I'll be back with something a lot more useful than a map." Leaving Sprout where she was standing, Severus marched over to Hermione.

"Miss Granger?" Snape said, snapping her out of her trance.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, turning. Gently taking her by the crook of her arm, Snape led her into a small enclave on the side of the church. This area was blocked out of sight by the Hogwarts students, and it was filled with a semicircle of votive candles surrounding a statue of the Virgin Mary. Here was where all the visiting lit candles to pray for themselves or loved ones.

"Professor Sprout wants to take the children to the Eiffel Tower," he explained.

"Well that's quite reasonable. The Tower is not too hard to find…"

"Yes, well," Snape continued, picking up a white candle in its tall glass container, "I was wanted you to aid me in making a portkey."

"_Professor_," Hermione gaped, more angry than shocked. "You know portkeys can't be created when they are unauthorized by the Ministry."

"Yes. That's why I asked you to help me create one, Ministry girl."

Flushing with embarrassment and frustration, Hermione grabbed the candle, as well. "Snape, I can't believe you actually want to do this. Just take a bus, for Merlin's sake!"

Severus' stomach pulled at the very mention. He couldn't admit to having those awful dreams of Albus. "Muggle transportation…makes me…nauseous."

Hermione wanted to pity him, but that "Ministry girl" remark still stung. "Well that sounds like a _personal_ problem."

"Listen to me," he grated, putting his other hand on the candle, encasing hers. "I am going to create this portkey. You are under my authority."

"I am not under anyone's authority!" Hermione screamed in a whisper so it wouldn't attract attention from the rest of the group. "I am a graduate of Hogwarts and I will do as I please so you just…"

"Fine. Then I will just create my own portkey. Easier, you know."

"Professor," Hermione hissed, eyes widening. "Don't you _dare_ -"

"_Portus_!"

Suddenly, in a puff of smoke, Hermione and Snape were gone.

* * *

Minerva folded her knobbly fingers together and tried to block out the sounds of the students as they milled about, just children. How badly she missed Albus, his wooly beard and soothing voice like crunching fall leaves, the jokes he made, the little candies in his office he fancied. She'd tried to forgive Severus for the sin he'd committed, but extinguishing a person so rare and wonderful was a crime beyond compare.

"Minerva?" Flitwick interrupted her train of thought, standing by her side and trembling nervously. McGonagall snapped her eyes open and looked at her small friend.

"Filius?"

"There's been…an accident," he whispered, gesturing for her to come with him. Quickly, Minerva stood and followed him into a small enclave off the side of the chapel. Pomona and Horace stood there already. Professor Sprout's kindly face was warped with worry as she stroked the empty place on the candle rack.

"Severus is gone," Pomona choked out. Minerva felt relief and concern tangle and fight inside her.

"He took a portkey," McGonagall announced quickly, smelling the residue of the spell in the air. "And judging by the quality and size of the spell…it feels like he brought someone with him…"

"Hermione is gone as well," Flitwick piped up. "Though we didn't hear much from over here, so it suggests she went somewhat willingly." This statement made the concern overwhelm the relief in Minerva.

"My word," McGonagall huffed. "Alright, the three of you listen to me. We will proceed with the trip as planned. Show no worry of their disappearance to the students. I will concentrate on finding them both. If you receive contact from either one of them, you are to report it to me immediately. We will deal professionally with this emergency and no one will be hurt. Is that understood?"

The trio nodded, even if Slughorn did nod a bit hesitantly. They went to gather up the students to head to their hotel, and as they did, a shadowy figure peered from the corner of the cathedral.

Stoically, the slender, dark man gazed up at the ceiling and smirked at the image of the falling Lucifer, pointy white canines glistening.

Then, in a pull of shadow, he disappeared into the darkness.


	3. All I Have

_Here we go at it three years later  
Will you help me to dream it all up again  
Tired of the same song everyone's singing  
Rather be lost with you instead_

Don't you come around here  
Come around here anymore  
Dragging my fears  
Out the door  
All I have  
Well, you know it's yours  
Every breathe  
Every step  
Every moment  
I'm looking for  
All I have  
Is yours  
And you watch my heart break a little bit more  
My heart breaks a little bit more

"**All I Have**," by Matt Kearney

Tumbling through oblivion, Hermione screamed but kept her hand gripped on the candle portkey at all cost. Confusion clouded her mind, as some strange force seemed to pull them to their destination, which seemed a lot farther than the Eiffel Tower.

Suddenly, something wrenched her leg and she cried out as her body was tugged from the candle. But Severus' hand gripped hers just in time, saving her from falling out of the travel. Clutching him tight, she rode the rest of the way pressed against him until the outflow of the portkey could be heard, an efflux of sound.

Falling into a field.

Plummeting down,

down,

_down._

_Whump_.

Slamming against the ground, Severus landed on his back, and Hermione fell on her front, right on top of him, her face only a hair away from his. In shock, she gaped as their noses brushed together and felt as if she was sweating.

Then the sweat washed away. They were in the middle of a field.

And the sky was crying, drenching them in a warm summer rain.

"Oh…my…_God_," Hermione said slowly, standing up – she didn't even try to wipe off her business suit, as it was completely soaked. "What the bloody hell was that?! And where are we?"

"I – I don't quite know," Severus replied honestly, rising. "That's my answer to both questions."

"Why did you say the _spell_?" Hermione cried, frustration knotting her insides as she was continually immersed in the steady fall of rain. "Why did you make a portkey?"

Snape looked at the votive candle that still remained in his hand. "I really don't know what possessed me to say that. Forgive me, Miss Granger." As a sign of attrition, Severus removed his black jacket and handed it to her. "So you might shelter yourself from this downpour," he explained meekly.

Hermione couldn't help the slight smile that crooked the side of her mouth. She took the jacket, which didn't help much since the rain had already drenched her through. Well, it was the thought that counted. "Thank you, Professor," she answered, holding the garment over her head. So they took off.

The two began their long trek across the field, Hermione shielding herself from the rain with Snape right at her side, managing to take impressive strides with his long legs. After a while of walking, a small cluster of buildings found its way onto their cloudy horizon.

"I think I'm getting my bearings," Snape announced. "We are in Aquitaine, France."

"How in the world did we get from Paris to here?" Hermione questioned. "I didn't think of us going here. Did you?"

"No, I swear I didn't. My mind was only focused on the realization that I'd actually _said_ the spell."

"I trust you," Hermione said genially. "Don't worry. Once we get up here, we can get a place to sleep for the night and I will call the professors to set things right."

Nodding, Snape glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his dark eyes. "A good plan. Minerva will have my head after this portkey incident. But no matter. It was my fault and I should be disciplined. I should be punished for potentially harming you. It was never my intention to do so, Miss Granger."

Hermione felt a tiny tug in her chest. "I understand, Professor."

"Could you please….do me a favor, Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked at him. "What is that?"

"Please don't call me Professor. Only students call me that, and you are a lady now. Call me Severus."

"Only if you stop calling me Miss Granger."

Snape smirked. "Agreed, Hermione."

"Agreed," she replied, relishing the ability to feel his name on her tongue, "_Severus_."

* * *

Finally the two reached the small commune, a little town tucked at the bottom of the foothills. Hermione identified it as Saint-Jean-Pied-De-Port, a little town with lovely scenery. They passed by little stone bridge over the water, which looked lovely even when it was being pocked by drops of summer rain.

Severus found them a quaint hotel called L'hôtel les Pyrénées and pulled out his wet wallet to pay for the night in a nice two-room suite. Hermione then led the way upstairs, water running down her suit legs.

Entering the hotel living room, Hermione stifled a yawn and stumbled over to the couch – more than anything she just wanted to get out of that drenched business suit. "I am _exhausted_," she declared, unbuttoning the top few buttons of her blouse. "I think I'll take a shower."

"Alright," Snape replied – he couldn't help his eyes from wandering to her quick, slender fingers, which were undoing her buttons. Quickly he snapped out of it and looked across the room, distracting himself at all cost. "I will give you some privacy. I'll go down to the lobby and look around for a bit," Severus said, standing and moving out of the door, taking one of the keys with him.

As the door shut, Hermione heaved a heavy sigh and completely undid her blouse, striping it off. Walking into their shared bathroom, she undressed and stepped into the shower. Needles of hot water hissed off her skin like a million tiny snakes, and as Hermione stood there, fingers laced behind her neck, she cleansed her mind of the entire daily jumble.

* * *

Severus stood under the awning of the hotel building, staying dry as he smoked his second cigarette, crushing the remains of the first one underneath his shoe. He had managed to buy a small pack of cigarettes from the concierge at the counter, and Snape justified his reason for smoking was this long day of trudging through a muddy field, soaked with rain, after being tossed away from Paris and stressful Minerva by a portkey.

But the main reason he smoked was Hermione Granger.

This horrid, lung-eating habit he'd been able to avoid for years finally reached up out of its dark void and grasped him. Snape knew it was an awful addiction, but he really needed a cigarette to take the edge off of this fever that was devouring him.

_Hermione, Hermione, Hermione_.

Ironic, really. Her name descended from Hermes, the messenger god of the Greeks. It meant "travel," which was exactly what he was doing with her now, journeying over France…

Oh Circe, had he really looked up her name? Cursing himself, Severus took a long drag off the cigarette and leaned his head against the wall, trying to savor the euphoric glow the cancer stick usually gave him. But nothing could ease the worry in his mind that grew over his admiration for Hermione.

Perhaps Minerva would take them back right away and he wouldn't have to deal with his feelings for her. Snape would much rather have a punishment than fall in love again.

Love only dealt pain. That was all Severus knew, and he would stick with it, humming it like a mantra until it was engraved into his brain.

* * *

Stepping out of the shower and wrapping herself in one of the hotel's complimentary fluffy, white bathrobes, Hermione wrung out her wet hair as she made her way into the living room, feeling nice and relaxed after the hot shower. She recalled the emergency number Professor Slughorn gave her, and Hermione plopped down on the couch and took up the phone, dialing the number in. It took three rings before he answered.

"Hello?" Hermione announced. "Professor, is that you?"

"Oh, thank Merlin you're alright!" her teacher's kindly voice sprung up on the other side of the line. "Are you hurt, my dear? Are you well? Is Severus with you? Is he well too?"

"We're together, and we're both perfectly fine. We rented a hotel room in Aquitaine, which was where the portkey landed us."

"Aquitaine! Well that's quite a ways away, Miss Granger."

"Yes, sir, but please do not blame Professor Snape for the portkey. It was faulty, and he did not intend to set it off."

"Ah, I see. Well, Miss Granger…Are you alone right at the moment?"

Hermione hesitated. "Yes."

"Very good. I am alone as well and I would like to propose an idea to you, and I hope you will comply."

There was a pause. "Go on, Professor."

"Minerva has demanded we return you two to her as soon as we found you, but I know Severus has been very…troubled, lately. Ever since Albus, Severus has been having bad dreams and has slipped into a strange depression that has worried me. I'm concerned for him, Miss Granger. I was wondering if you would not mind staying with him a few days outside of the school trip. Minerva will only treat him with contempt."

"I don't – I don't understand, Professor."

"I will not alert Minerva to your whereabouts, unless you wish me to do so," Slughorn explained. "When Severus was young, a very bright young witch much like yourself managed to pull him out of his pain. I hope you can do the same, Miss Granger. Will you do it?"

Silently, Hermione played with the cord of the phone, pondering. Then finally, she said, "Yes."

"Thank you, ever so much, Miss Granger. If you need something, anything at all, do not hesitate to contact me. You're an angel."

Hermione smirked sadly. "I try, Professor."

"I must go now. Thank you again. Have a good night, Miss Granger."

"You as well, Professor. Goodbye."

Hanging up the phone, Hermione stared at the wall in shock of what she had done. What did she just agree to? Somehow taking care of a depressed Snape? What on earth was she thinking?

_You like him_, she told herself. _Just admit it. That's why you agreed to all this. _

Burying her face in the crook of her arm, Hermione moaned in frustration. She swore to herself that her rescuing days stopped at the end of the Second Wizarding War when everyone parted ways. Parting was painful, the hopeful flame of love extinguished. She would not go through with pain, with _hurt_, again.

Love was idiotic.

"Hermione? Are you quite alright?"

Apparently she had moaned into her arm so loudly that she did not even notice the hotel door opening and Snape walking in. Black brows knit with concern, he looked down at her pitifully.

"F-fine, just fine, Professor," Hermione sputtered, sitting up, acutely aware she wore nothing underneath that white bathrobe. A heat rose in her cheeks, making them rosy with embarrassment.

Snape smiled and sat on the armchair next to the couch, restricting his eyes to only her face and taking care he did not look at her body. "I thought you agreed with calling me Severus."

"Oh yes…I'm sorry, Severus."

"So did you manage to contact the professors?" Sev's smile twisted sadly.

"No. Bad connection. We'll have to keep searching until we find a good one."

"Ah," Severus replied, nodding…he had not expected that answer. Silence sat between them, and though it was quiet, it felt comfortable. There was no rush to summon up something new to say.

"Well, we'd best go to bed so we can be nice and refreshed tomorrow morning," Hermione said, standing – Snape stood the same time she did. "Goodnight, Severus."

"I will straighten up the living room a bit before I go to bed. Goodnight to you as well, Hermione."

Walking into her room and turning down the covers, Hermione flopped down on her bed, too tired to search for pajamas. She clicked her lamp off and burrowed deep under the covers, enjoying the fresh scent of clean cotton. In the back of Hermione's mind, a thought surfaced, a wonder as to what Severus did before he went to sleep.

Wiping the thought out of her brain instantly, Hermione tried to forget him as she fell into a hazy sleep. But the last thing she saw in her mind before she went to sleep was a pair of mysterious coal-black eyes…

* * *

Snape pretended to be occupied with a lampshade in the living room as Hermione went to bed, but the second she turned off her lamp, he stood at his full height and peered about the room. His real intentions concerning the living room might have scared Hermione, so he did his best to conceal them. The second he inhaled deeply through his large, hooked nose, testing his suspicions, Severus found his conclusions were correct.

An odor of dust and graves permeated the air, along with a faint undertone of moist earth.

_Vampires._

Drawing a small sheepskin pouch from his back pocket, Severus withdrew two garlic bulbs and broke them into cloves. The herb pouch, a gift from Pomona for any emergencies or accidents, finally proved to be useful. He put two cloves by the main hotel door.

Sneaking quietly into Hermione's room, Snape crept over to the windowsill and placed three cloves onto it. Carefully, he also laid two cloves on the top of the bed's headboard.

Severus looked down at the small sleeping figure in the bed. Hermione was his responsibility to protect, and so he would do so with the upmost care.

Retreating into his room, Snape took care to place two cloves next to the window and the last remaining clove on his headboard before climbing into bed. Hopefully the scent of vampires had only been from the last guests in the hotel room, but one could never be too cautious.

Leaning against the pillow, Sev never turned off his lamp, only stayed wide awake, trying to evade his dreams. Nightmares and vampires kept him awake.

But around three in the morning, the thought of sweet Hermione finally lulled Severus to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed Chapter Three! Please leave a review - they're quite helpful and motivate me to keep on writing. :) Thanks, lovelies!


	4. Drops of Jupiter

_Now that she's back in the atmosphere_

_ With drops of Jupiter in her hair, hey, hey_

_ She acts like summer and walks like rain_

_ Reminds me that there's a time to change, hey, hey_

_ Since the return from her stay on the moon_

_ She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey, hey_

_But tell me, did you sail across the sun?_

_ Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded_

_ And that heaven is overrated?_

_Tell me, did you fall from a shooting star –_

_ One without a permanent scar?_

_ And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?_

~"**Drops of Jupiter**," Train

Dawn sun rays threaded through the sheer white curtains of Hermione's window, and she groaned as she rolled over to stare at them, her hair a frizzy mess. Her calves ached and her thighs burned from yesterday's long walk across the field, and her stomach grumbled in protest. She couldn't even remember her last meal.

Oh, yes. Because her last meal was in _Britain_.

Hopping out of bed, Hermione stretched up on her toes, trying to extend her cramped calves. Drawing her wand from the bedside table, she transfigured the armchair in the corner of her room into a fresh pile of clothes. As she changed, she hoped the hotel staff wouldn't miss the furniture too much.

Once dressed in a white fitted T-shirt and skinny blue jeans, Hermione fastened her unruly hair with a clip from the drawer of her bedside table and pulled on a fashionable pair of tan-leather boots. Smiling at herself in the vanity, she tried out different facial expressions. _Your job is to make him happy_, Hermione reminded herself. _You can do that, surely you can try? You've had a crush on him all these years…At least you could get over your wit and your detail-orientation and your Ministry status and focus on him. He's what you've wanted. He's what you need. Give it a go._

Stepping out into the living room, she met with a tired-looking Snape up and reading a book on the sofa. The second he saw her, he got to his feet and tried to grin. Hermione was surprised to see he was already prepared to go, fully dressed in a brand-new set of clothes which included a crisp, olive-green dress shirt and a dark grey tie that made him look awfully nice.

"Good morning, Hermione," Snape nodded, shutting his book.

"Good morning, Pro – _Severus_," she beamed. "All ready to go, eh?"

"Yes. I apologize if I'm a bit more sour than usual now…I'm not my _usual_ grumpy self until I get my coffee."

"Oh, I understand that all too well," Hermione sympathized – she held out an arm, offering him to come with him. "Accompany me to breakfast?...Er, _petit-déjeuner_?"

"I'm impressed," Severus chuckled, looping his arm in hers. "_Bien sûr._ Of course."

After Snape wrapped up things at the front counter, he smiled at Hermione and walked her out into the street of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. He delighted in the warm sun on his face, and the fresh air in his lungs. Severus especially enjoyed Hermione's arm looped in his.

"You look...nice today, Hermione," he said slowly, smiling down at her anxiously.

Her heart skipped a beat, but her blush and bowed head kept it in check. "Thank you, sir. You look nice as well."

Severus' chest tightened. Perhaps spending time with Hermione would not be too bad after all.

* * *

Entering into a little café, Severus and Hermione ordered breakfast then sat down at a little table. They awaited their order with their drinks – Hermione stirred her steaming hot chocolate while Snape sipped his strong black coffee, not even wincing at the sharp bite of it. _How delicately she drinks,_ he observed, fixated on her pink lips as they touched the hot chocolate, sending the hot liquid cascading back down her throat…

Catching himself, Sev jolted upright and burned his tongue on the coffee. As he fought to recover with curses and coughs, Hermione looked up at him, amused. "Are you quite alright?"

"Fortunately," Snape replied, dabbing his lips with a napkin. "Just absorbing the culture of France – maybe a bit too _much_ of the culture."

Hermione smiled as the waiter placed their order before them. Had Severus Snape just made a _joke_?

Severus exchanged a few French phrases with their waiter, and then turned to Hermione once the server scurried off. "I have been meaning to ask you, Hermione – How is life for you?"

"I told you at the train station." She smirked. "Surely you remember? '_Ministry girl'_?"

Sev flushed. "No – I meant _outside_ of work. Outside of the Ministry, how have you been? Where do you live? Have you any pets?"

"I occupy my own apartment. It's quite nice and spacey, for a first residence." Hermione cracked her piece of bread in half and dipped it in her hot chocolate, taking a bite. "Bastet and Maahes are my two pet cats. They're very sweet and keep me company. My neighbor is taking care of them while I am gone."

Taking a bite of his ham and egg sandwich, Sev nodded, interested. "Working at the Ministry must be a hard job."

"Oh, it is. I have no time for silly things like much of a social life. The Ministry keeps me occupied, as my schoolwork did at Hogwarts. And to be good in the Ministry, you must be _obsessed_ with it." A bit of contempt laced her words with that statement. Hermione shrugged and bit into her bread again, her dark eyes somewhere else.

Severus knew that look all too well – it was a look of pain, of want, for something more, though you quite didn't know what. Something that didn't make life the insipid rat race it really was. It was a hunger for something more.

"Don't you go out for a bit with your female Ministry friends? Maybe a quick nip at a pub after work?"

Hermione snorted. "_After _work? There's no after work in the Ministry. I wake up, get dressed, go to work. Then I come home to my apartment, make dinner, and I have more work. My cats are my only friends in those hours, and even they fall asleep as I read big, dusty volumes of wizard law into those witching hours of the morning."

"So you don't have a boyfriend?" the question was out before Snape could stop it, and he immediately bit his tongue the second he said it. _Don't get invested in this girl_, he told himself.

Surprised, Hermione looked up and met his eyes. "I do not. No time. No time at all to spend on fanciful things like relationships. I need to be focused and alert, not having a heart clouded with romance or anything stupid."

"What about that Weasley boy you always hung about with?"

She laughed a sort of bitter sweetness engulfing her features. "Ron. Ah, yes, _Ron_. Well I'll need to walk about to be able to discuss the subject. Come, let's go see the town."

Nodding, Snape stood and walked outside, following Hermione down the sidewalk. He observed the familiar twitch in her businesslike strut, and had to keep shaking his mind off the thought of her. _Stop thinking about her, Severus._

* * *

For hours they wandered about the town, silently admiring the beauty of the place. Severus and Hermione until the sun started to slide from its place in the sky, beginning the afternoon. Finally, Hermione began to speak.

"When the Wizarding War ended, I knew I loved Ron more than anything else in the whole world," Hermione explained, falling back to walk at Sev's side. "We'd just been friends all these years, but before I knew it, I had fallen totally in love with him. I wanted nothing more than to be his wife…I found myself daydreaming of our children, our to-be home life, how I would cook breakfast for him in the morning and take him to bed each night."

_I know the feeling all too well_, Severus thought sympathetically.

"Ron accepted my attraction and admiration in what he dubbed love, and for several months we lived together, playing house, pretending like we were married and in love." For a moment she was silent. Before them was the Saint-Pied-de-Port stone bridge, where trees draped in dripping greenery hung above them. Hermione went to the bridge and leaned on its stone wall, gazing into the glassy water below. Snape came and leaned on the wall next to her, watching her face with the rapt attention of someone completely enamored.

Hermione's brown eyes began to grow watery, and she bit her bottom lip so it wouldn't tremble as she walked along. "Then one night we had a fight. It started with something small – I just asked Ron to take the trash out, which he could never seem to actually _do_ without me reminding him. He retorted something nasty back, and soon we were tearing into each other. I reprimanded him on his laziness and forgetfulness, and he called me a controlling _bitch_."

Now it took all of Hermione's effort not to cry, and as she choked back a sob, a small gargled sob escaped her throat. Brow knit with concern and pain, Snape put a large hand on her back and rubbed it in comforting circles. "It's alright, Hermione," he soothed. "You don't have to go on if you don't wish to."

At his warm, gentle touch, his slender fingers rubbing her back, Hermione relaxed noticeably. Sniffing and forcing her sadness back down her throat, Hermione explained, "There's not much else to say, really. We screamed at each other, and I got kicked out. I focused all my energy on the Ministry to distract myself from the thing Ron had become, and rented a new apartment. I adopted Bastet and Maahes and raised them from kittens, doling all my affections on them. I had built up so much love for Ron that it just sat in my chest with nowhere to go, so I gave it all to my animals. Letting love stagnate breeds pain. I had to get rid of it."

"I know how you feel, my girl," Severus calmed, moving his hand up to her small shoulder and holding it firmly – if Weasley was here in front of him now, he would certainly smack the boy on the head with a book. Or perhaps a brick, for what he did. "Truly I do. Love is painful."

"I haven't been able to fall in love since," Hermione admitted, wiping her tears away. "I haven't had the courage to. Romance feels so good when it starts, but then it decays, it rots into agony." Suddenly, the Gryffindor girl gave a loud laugh. "And besides, what boy could ever fall in love with a controlling bitch like _me_? I'm just a crazy old cat lady who constantly corrects and accuses. I'm not _love_ material."

"Hermione _Granger_," Severus said in his most commanding tone. "You are the farthest thing from a bitch I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. You are wonderful and intelligent, and any boy would be lucky to have you. You lit up my dull class like some brilliant star, and I know you would easily do that to any man's life."

Giving a small, shy smile, Hermione gazed up at Severus. "Do you really think that?"

"_Bien sûr_," Snape smiled back, nodding, squeezing her shoulder gently. "Now it's getting quite late. Care to come to dinner with me?"

"_Oui_," Hermione answered sweetly. She followed Severus down the sidewalk.

Some deep instinct told Hermione to turn around, and she did so just in time to see a dark shadow flutter across the surface of the water. Seeing nothing else, she didn't think about it much but kept it in her mind all the way to the restaurant.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Please leave a review. :) Also, if any of you guys out there are artists, feel free to do some fanart on this if you wish! Just make sure to give my story credit and alert me so I can see some of your beautiful art. :)

Thanks, everyone!


	5. Run

_"When I powder my nose  
He will powder his guns  
And if I try to get close  
He is already gone  
Don't know where he's going  
Don't know where he's been  
He is restless at night  
He has horrible dreams  
So we lay in the dark  
'Cause we've got nothing to say  
Just the beating of hearts like two drums in the grey  
Don't know what we're doing  
Don't know what we've done  
But the fire is coming  
So I think we should run  
I think we should run, run, run_

While I put on my shoes  
He will button his coat  
And we will step outside  
Checking out the coast is clear on both sides  
We don't want to be seen  
No, this is suicide  
You can't see the ropes  
And I won't tell my mother  
It's better she don't know  
And he won't tell his folks  
'Cause they're already ghosts  
So we'll just keep each other as safe as we can  
Until we reach the border  
Until we make our plan  
To run, run, run"

~ "**Run**" by Daughter

Opening the door for Hermione, Snape allowed a smile to crawl onto his face as he smelled the savory, delicious French food inside. They walked in, and Hermione absorbed the dark, relaxed atmosphere, the sunset-orange-washed walls, heavy curtains pulled over the windows. Candles at each table served as the only illumination. Elegant women and their suave men occupied the place, talking low and puffing on cigarettes.

A haze of smoke permeated the place. Hermione coughed and staggered back into Severus a bit. He caught her shoulder in his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Table for two – as close to a non-smoking section as you can find," Snape requested to their waitress in French. She led them to their table in the corner, and Hermione took a breath of fresh air.

"Thank you," she told Snape, sitting down in the chair he pulled out for you.

Severus took a seat of well and ordered, but oh, how he itched for a cigarette. The misty atmosphere overwhelmed him. Even if Snape's habit hadn't relieved him of much lately, the smoke still tempted him, making him lick his lips hungrily. He missed that relaxing sensation. Hopefully food could take his mind off his addiction.

Distracted, Hermione giggled like she was a girl again, whispering to Snape, "Well I certainly feel underdressed." They looked to see a lady with a haircut like those in the flapper days and a clingy dark-purple dress, stroking the stubbly cheek of her lover.

Severus smirked into his glass of red wine. "Underdressed? I'd say you're overdressed based on that woman's outfit.

Flushing, Hermione squirmed in her T-shirt and jeans. _Perhaps I should've worn something more revealing_, she thought.

"I like modesty," Sev said, as if reading her mind. "It is the sign…of a lady."

"I've gotten a lot of compliments today, Severus, far more than usual. I'm quite full of them."

"Well I hope you're not too stuffed to still eat dinner." Right then, the waitress arrived with their first course. Steaming, the bowls of stew were placed before them, thick brown broth with juicy chunks of meat and chopped carrots. Severus looked up at Hermione as he blew gently on the first spoonful.

"What is this?" she asked curiously.

"_Coq au vin_. Rooster." He bit into the succulent meat. "Ah, delicious."

Hermione tucked in, relishing the dish, and the way he said "delicious" strangely titillated her. "It's amazing."

They finished their meal, and Snape dabbed his lips with his napkin, sighing with content. "No one can beat the French in their food."

"I agree," Hermione answered. "I just wanted to say…thank you for listening to my rant about Ron earlier. I really needed someone to talk to about that." It was true. Snape was so odd and different from others, he was easy to talk to. His apartness made him relatable.

"You are very welcome, Hermione. If you ever wish to talk about anything, I will listen and try to do as best I can."

After poking around in the stew and debating over whether she should ask, Hermione questioned, "Have you ever loved anyone before?"

Severus arched an eyebrow – why on earth did she ask him that?"Once, I did. When I was young. We grew up together, and I was her best friend. Then I made the horrible mistake of calling her a nasty name, and she left for another man." Sev smiled sadly, his way of dealing with pain. "I have regretted it ever since. I apologized, but it was too late. I protected her but…one day she slipped away. She is gone now." He fiddled with his napkin, long fingers jittery from remembrances and withdrawal.

Quietly, Hermione reached across the table and laid her small hand on top of his, stroking the back of his hand gently with her thumb. "I'm sorry for your loss. I never knew you loved before."

"Well, I _am_ heartless old Professor Snape. Who would lay an old man like me, let alone love?" he chuckled.

Silence followed, and Hermione just studied the veins in his hand, tracing them, She did not look up so Snape would not see the pinkness that rose high in her cheeks.

"I guess like I am like Weasley after all," Snape admitted. "Do you think I am like him, Hermione? After all, I did chase her away with a stupid comment and hurt her. I should be deemed _worse_ than Ron, even."

Softness touched Hermione's features. "No, you're not like him. You apologized. You protected her. You _cared_. Love can carry on after insults and fights but…that's only in the case of real, true love. When Ron fought with me, I couldn't see a trace of love or remorse left in his eyes. He wasn't the man I adored. Ron was gone."

Sev nodded. "I know how that feels. I felt the same way with my love." Leaning back in his chair, Snape looked off into the distance and quoted, "_The sun's gone dim and the moon's gone black, for I loved her and she didn't love back_."

"Dorothy Parker," Hermione identified quickly. "A famous Muggle poet. I never pegged you as a man of poetry."

"It's a guilty pleasure of mine. You'll see I am just full of surprises, dear Hermione."

At the table next to theirs, couple in the midst of conversation happened to toss a cigarette butt dangerously close to their table, landing right next to Sev's chair. Like a shark sensing blood in the water, he inhaled deeply and his breathing staggered. That delectable smell made him quake with yearning.

"I see poetry's not your only guilty pleasure," she deduced. "Judging by your profound reaction to that cigarette butt, you take up smoking as well."

For a moment, Severus sputtered around before saying, "Well…yes. But I've only taken it up again recently. To take the edge off of things."

"I understand. I never really pegged you as a smoker, but I guess even I can be wrong sometimes."

"Have you ever smoked, Hermione?"

"Unfortunately, yes. After the Wizarding War. They tasted disgusting so I gave them up easily. But for a while they helped me relax."

Severus imagined Hermione taking a drag on a ciggy between her plump, pink lips and blowing out a smoke ring. The idea of a bad-girl Granger electrified and excited him, and he had to shove the thought roughly out of the door of his mind, though it did take a good effort of pushing.

"I thought I smelled smoke on your clothes yesterday night when you came in after my shower," Hermione noted. "We'll have to do something about that. Here."

Pulling Sev's hand closer, Hermione drew a small bottle of amber liquid from her pocket and put a few dabs onto his skin. "Go ahead. Smell," she ordered, putting the vial back.

Slowly, Sev brought his hand up and sniffed the back of it. A pleasant odor, like that of lemons, entered his nose, and his itch for a cigarette mellowed considerably. "That's marvelous," Snape commented. "Thank you."

"Citrus fruits help with smoking addiction – lemon is a detoxifying agent, and vitamin C protects against the oxidative damage caused by smoking."

"You're a very bright witch, Hermione."

"Oh, you don't mean that!"

"I do. I really do."

Smiling, Hermione looked up into his eyes and felt something like a wall slide down inside of her. Was he getting to her?

Something flickering caught Sev's eye, and he turned to see the candle at one of the tables snuffed out. His mind told him to disregard it, but there was something eerie about it. The occupants of the table were too busy kissing to notice. On the other side of the room, two more candles went out, causing a bit of a surprised stir. Instinctually, Severus grasped Hermione's wrist tightly.

"Do you see that?" he asked. "Maybe I'm just seeing things, but…"

"I do…the candles…" she gaped, gripping his wrist back. "They went out…but there's nothing that could've caused it…nothing visible, at least…"

All of the restaurant's candles suddenly flickered out one by one, and cries sprouted from the dark until the only lit candle was the one at Severus and Hermione's table – Hermione took the candle into her hands and held it close, a light source. Quickly, Snape stood, pulling Hermione to her feet and into his chest facing outward, surrounding her with his long arms protectively. In his right hand he clutched his wand, gazing into the blackness, trying to discern what was happening. Hermione drew her wand as well, grateful for the opposing Severus Snape surrounding her, her shield, her guardian.

A strange odor hit her nose, one of rain and castles, dust on caskets and a small hint of dried blood. With all her mind, Hermione wished it away, concentrating on the one lit candle in her hands.

A lady's blood-curdling scream ripped the air from the darkness around them, and Hermione flinched, gripping Severus's shirt. Snaps and slurps accompanied the moment of terror, and though Hermione knew just what the monsters were feeding upon, she did not want to imagine it.

Cautiously, Sev lifted his wand and whispered to Hermione, "I am going to illuminate the place. Are you ready?"

Gulping, she replied, "Yes."

Slowly, Severus said, with his calmest and strongest voice, "_Lumos._"

Light spread from the tip of his wand to reveal a man standing before them…or at least he _appeared_ to be a man. Wand-made light gleamed off his slicked-back white-blonde hair, and his slender, ashen body was wrapped in a tan trench coat. His eyes were black as coal.

"What the hell do you want?" Severus snarled.

"A pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Snape," the vampire mocked, bowing. "I am Paveo. I represent a group of minorities not – _recognized_ by Miss Granger here. Hand over the girl and your troubles will be over. We only want _her_."

"Never," Snape snapped without hesitation. "You can't have her." He held her tighter, feeling her tremble.

"Don't be daft," Paveo growled, his mockery gone. "Come along, Severus. You've succumbed to dark forces before. And this time, you won't have to bow."

In a roar of rage, Severus cast a spell, screaming "_Expulso_!" over the sound of the whirling bolt of energy. Paveo quickly sidestepped as the magic hit the table behind him and caused it to explode. A chunk of the wood slammed into the side of Paveo's head.

Shaken and visibly pissed off, the vampire glared up at Snape, wiping blood from the side of his mouth. "Fine. Let's do it the _hard_ way."

Searing pain sunk into Sev's shoulder, and he yelled, looking down to see a knife had embedded deep into his flesh. His attacker stood behind him, laughing madly, and little did he know Hermione was quick on her feet. She spun in Sev's arm, disarmed the second vampire in a flash of light, and stunned him. In one swift movement, she threw one arm tight around Snape's neck.

"Do you trust me?" she hissed.

Severus winced as blood flowed from his shoulder. "Yes," he answered.

"Hold on!" Hermione took a deep breath, clutching Severus tightly, before crying, "_Portus_!"

In a puff of smoke, Severus and Hermione were gone, tumbling through oblivion to their next destination.

* * *

Falling, falling, falling. All over again.

Snape's agony intensified through the drop, and he felt as if the sudden rush would make him pass out. White-hot pain surged to his head.

Gripping him tighter and wrapping her legs around his waist so they stuck together, Hermione put her face next to his. "Don't you die on me, Severus Snape! Focus! _Focus_ on me!"

Forcing his eyes open, Sev looked at her beautiful face. He made himself stay awake and held tight to her the rest of the fall.

* * *

With a landing a bit gentler than the last time, Severus and Hermione tumbled into a field just outside a city. Snape moaned as he hit the ground, and instantly Hermione looked about for shelter. A grove of trees stood not far from them.

"Come on, Severus!" she exclaimed, helping him up and bearing his weight on her shoulders. "Come on, we can make it."

"We can make it…" he echoed, feeling lightheaded as they entered the grove of trees. With a grunt, Hermione laid him on a patch of soft ground and tore the hem of her white shirt. Carefully, she pulled the knife from his shoulder and continued on, ignoring his cries so she could keep tending to him. Hermione tore his shirt off and bandaged his shoulder with the ripped hem of her shirt, adding just enough pressure to staunch the blood. Tears sprung to her eyes – the cut was extremely close to his heart, enough to frighten her to pieces.

Ghostly fingers of prickling pain probed at Snape's mind, and he took Hermione's hand in his weakly. "Hermione…if I die tonight…I need to tell you something…"

"You're not going to _die_," she choked, taking his face in her hands. All of a sudden, her childish weakness flooded back, and she realized with a start that she _needed_ Snape more than anything before.

"I need to tell you…that I love you," Severus murmured, head bobbing, his eyelids heavy as lead. "And I…I always have."

Hermione clutched to him and felt a fat tear drop from her eye. "I love you too, Severus," she whispered, stroking his cheek.

"I pray I…wake later…so I might tell you…properly," Snape said, gasping for breath now. "Goodnight, my dear…" Snape's eyes closed, and she continued to cradle his head in her lap, gently stroking his ink-black hair.

A tug of agony pulled at Hermione's heart. "Just hang on till morning, my love…just hang on."

* * *

In Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, ambulances pulled up in front of the restaurant, sirens blaring. All the Muggles were too preoccupied with the dead to notice the five tall, slender figures escaping into the dark and meeting on the bridge. They weren't there over the water to hear the hushed conversation through blood-coated throats. They weren't there to see the devilish gleam in the obsidian eyes of a white-blonde vampire who hissed, with a voice like steel grating on stone:

"_It's not over yet_."

* * *

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	6. Make This One Last

_""It was hard as we passed in the moonlight._

_The hurt in your eyes; the stifled goodbyes._

_And I knew, as you turned this was always._

_No parting remark, no shot in the dark._

_So take care of your love tonight._

_Take care of your love,_

_'cause I know, like a candle, it can flicker._

_So take care of your love tonight._

_Take care of your love,_

_'Cause I know, if she goes, how you'll miss her._

_So make this one last._

_'cause love really hurts when it's past._

_I don't care, I don't care, I don't care,_

_If you keep me waiting"_

~ "**Make This One Las**t" by Scouting for Girls

Dreams were hard on Sev all his life. They always had been. All of them were beautiful at first – his mother reading him bedtime stories, going to the lake with Lily, comfortable solitude.

Then they warped into horrors. His father beating the life out of him. Lily being consumed by a flash of terrible light. Dumbledore's face rising from the void, swallowing him whole.

But this sleep was much different. Perhaps, you could even call it _good_.

Severus stood in the middle of a field of wheat, under a broad blue sky. The sun was not searing and dangerous like in reality, but gentle warmth on his back. The peaceful rays reached their fingers into the wound in his shoulder, soothing him.

Reluctantly, he began to walk. If this dream was like all the ones he'd ever had, this field of wheat would dissolve into a sinkhole to hell in a matter of minutes. Heaven always disguised itself as Hell in his experience. But his heart hoped this dream was different.

Severus's head came up to see a tiny piece of paper fluttering down from the infinity of the heavens. Spurred on by some superhuman strength, Sev dashed ahead to capture the note between his long index finger and middle finger. Paper, palpable and real, relieved him.

He unfolded the paper, and read in an all-too-familiar script of gold:

**_Let me go, Severus._**

Shaking his head, Severus refused to believe it was her handwriting. How could she write it? She was _dead_. The Dark Lord had slaughtered her like an innocent lamb. She did not exist in this world any longer.

Wind rushed over the waist-high golden wheat, and Sev stumbled back. Each stalk of wheat began to shift colors, turning green and thick from the roots up. Then the buds of wheat broke, spilling grains everywhere like fireworks. The buds grew out in thick green leaves that turned white.

Sev stood in a field of swaying white lilies.

It felt like a final funeral, a letting go. The pain on his chest of Lily's death lifted like the bright wing of an angel, and a tear rolled down his cheek. He knew somehow that would be the last tear he would shed for the late Lily Evans.

**_ Let me go._**

Inhaling the sweet perfume of the flowers one last time, Sev exhaled and closed his eyes, wrapping his fingers around a strand of sunlight and letting it pull him to the surface…

Lacing her fingers across her face, Hermione knelt in the field slightly outside the grove of trees. The sun had just peeked over the horizon and heralded the dawn, and it was then that she realized she had spent the entire long night watching over Snape as he slept.

For hours that night she kept tending to his wound, constantly casting healing spell after healing spell. Hermione even felt over Sev's body to make sure it was working correctly, and there she found a small pouch of herbs. Quickly she sorted through the bits of plants to find some yarrow leaves which she chewed up and applied as a spit-poultice to Severus's stab wound. Hermione thanked her lucky stars that her memory of botany class with Professor Sprout was still wicked sharp.

During the night, Snape's body convulsed in intervals that terrified Hermione. Quickly she tended to him in those moments. She thought the night was much like the quote "long periods of boredom punctuated by short moments of excitement." The night was a war to keep the man she loved _alive_.

Just an hour ago Severus settled into a continual pattern of sleep. His breathing grew normal, if very faint and slow. With a lead heart, Hermione had put both of her small hands on his chest and tried to keep his soul inside of him, tried to keep the life from bleeding out of his body.

Hermione struggled with all her being, but she learned all she could do was wait. Wait and see if Severus would actually die. She really didn't know what she would do if he did though. She started envisioning it. A black hole began to open up inside of her so she stopped it.

Now Hermione knelt in the field, eyes itchy and dry from no sleep. Her hair hung in loose auburn strands around her face, and her ribs hurt from the fall. Putting her shaking hands on her face, she let out a silent scream of fury, fear, frustration, and fright. She felt like she was going to vomit, like she was going to implode and drag the rest of the universe in with her.

Hermione was lost. With all her might she wanted Severus back.

"H-Hermione?"

The low, meek voice spun her head around faster than a top, and quick as a cat, the young lady jumped to her feet. There stood Snape, leaning against a tree, looking haggard but alive. Shadows accentuated the already prominent lines on his stern face, especially his hooked nose.

Hermione's hands flopped against her thighs, arms losing all their tautness. His name dropped from her mouth like a last leaf from a dying winter tree. "_Severus_?"

"Were you just…praying?"

Her knees wobbled. "I guess you could say that."

Severus gripped tight to the bark of the tree for support. "We could all use some prayer today."

Without another word, a smile gushed onto Hermione's face and she rushed into his arms, hugging the man close. Surprised by the sudden contact, Severus stumbled back, but had to suppress a cry of agonized pleasure from her arms wrapped around him, pulling him so tight. Hermione just pressed her cheek against his chest, feeling him quiver with weakness. She inhaled deeply his scent of cedarwood, thyme, and basil.

"I watched you all _night_," she sputtered swiftly, holding him at arm's length and supporting him as she looked him over. "I kept healing you and watching out for vampires and I was so afraid…that you would die."

"You were busy saving me. Again." The scars of Nagini's bite marks on his neck tingled at the remembrance.

Hermione blinked and finally met his eyes. "Yes. Yes I was. Hopefully if I ever get hurt, you'll return the favor."

"You know I will, Hermione." Severus snaked his hand to grasp the underside of her wrist securely and squeezed it reassuringly. The warmth pulsating between them made Hermione gasp slightly before recovering herself under his gaze.

"Well we'd best go into town," she announced, straightening her new outfit, which consisted of an olive-drab canvas jacket over a black camisole and skinny blue jeans with tan boots. "You need to be taken care of properly. And I certainly can't do that in a forest. Come on." She edged underneath his arm to offer him support, and felt comforted by the weight and warmth of his lanky, tall form.

"Whatever you used on my arm certainly did work well," Snape told her, unwrapping the bandage gently to show her. "I barely feel any pain…just a small soreness."

"To tell you the truth, I used some of the herbs you had in your herb bag. Some yarrow really did the trick." But when Hermione saw the wound, she was stricken with surprise. A wound never healed _that_ fast, even with the best of healing spells. Putting the thought to the back of her mind, she thanked her lucky stars again.

Someone up there must be watching over them.

* * *

Sighing with relief, Hermione closed the door to their hotel room once they had made it securely inside, Severus falling into one of the armchairs. The front desk had been a hassle to work with, since Snape had to act in tip-top shape around him, though his arm ached, hidden in the folds of a leather jacket Hermione had conjured for him. To make matters more awkward, the concierge kept referring to them as a "couple" and a "pair of lovebirds." Either one of them would've taken the lovely pairing any day, but when one of the lovebirds has been stabbed near the heart, it is crucial to get a room to do other things than fool around.

Hermione turned to see one queen-sized bed in the center of the room, creamy sheets warmed by the dawn's golden rays. "_One_ bed? I asked for a room for _two_." The young woman peered into the rest of the rooms. "Well there's a bathroom and a closet…but one bed!" She tried to ignore the lump in her throat. Gulping, Hermione told herself her heart beat from anger rather from anticipation for the night.

Panting with soreness, Severus stripped off the leather jacket and unbuttoned his green dress shirt, taking in their whole room. "Well, it's not a bad room. And I can sleep in this chair if it makes you feel more comfortable."

"Oh no, you're not." Swiftly, Hermione took him by his shoulders and helped him with a firm gentleness. "You rest here for a while. I'll guard the room."

Snape took her forearms and looked her in the eye. "_You're_ the one who needs sleep. You've been up all night. Come, take a rest. At least for an hour or so."

"Oh alright," Hermione said, stripping off her drab jacket. "I can't refuse a catnap." Bones aching for rest, she plopped down in the bed and tied her hair up in a sloppy, beautiful bun that Sev found very attractive. Hermione began to play around with her lovely mane. "I just wonder why those damned vampires tried to attack us."

"For years, vampires have been held as inferior to wizards," Severus explained, lowering himself into the armchair. "They're wealthy, cunning, and fearsome, but also frowned upon for the most part. There's been no vampire representative in the Ministry for Merlin-knows-when – being a blood-sucker doesn't win you much favor. You being the representative for house-elves really pisses them off. First, vampires are the top consumer of house-elf slaves – not only for servanthood, but also for bloody rituals when humans run low. Secondly, it is an insult to vampires if house-elves are treated more like citizens than they are."

"Well that makes sense." Twisting her locks, Hermione decided upon a braid, not a bun. "Is there anything we can do until I return to the Ministry? I feel as if I have a target on my back."

"All we can do is stay alive. They will only try to assassinate you, give themselves some effective publicity and get some vengeance. We must get you to the Ministry as fast as possible so we can buy these vampires some proper representation before this whole thing blows into a war."

"Oh, _oh_," Hermione moaned with true pity for the vampires, and also some for herself – she burrowed into the sheets. "I wish we didn't have to go so soon. Gah! And why is it that people are always trying to kill me?"

"You'll have nothing to worry about now." Sev got up and began strategically placing garlic cloves about the hotel room. "Just sleep as long as you need to."

Silence muffled the air for a moment. "Thank you, Severus."

"For what?"

"For protecting me and not giving me over to the vampires." Hermione turned her face to the ceiling. "It would've been much easier to just give me up."

_No, it wouldn't have been_. "Do not worry or doubt me, Hermione. I am your protector. It is my job."

Putting her face into the pillow, she hid her smile and felt a warmth spread through her bones. The elephant in the room, so pleasantly unpleasant, still remained, large and palpable. Memory of it floated back into Hermione's mind, and as Snape observed her curl-up form on the bed, it returned to him as well…

_"I love you…and I always…have…"_

_"I love you too, Severus…"_

Was it real? Did he mean it? Did _she_? Relief and tension felted into one fabric for both of them. Hermione resolved she would talk to him about it when she woke up.

"Sleep tight, Hermione," Snape whispered. "Tomorrow will be our last day alone together. Then I take you back."

"Goodnight, Severus."

As Hermione fell asleep, curled into a ball on the bed, Severus checked the room, locking windows and bolting the doors before drawing his wand and going to the mirror in the bathroom to cast a summoning spell. He began to summon Shacklebolt, because no matter how much he wanted to stay alone, he had to get her to safety.

As the spell worked, Severus gazed at Hermione's sleeping form with his dark eyes. Her head rested in its nest of auburn curls, and she slept with the cutest smirk on her face, as if she knew a secret only she kept.

In his dream, Lily had told Severus to let his old love for her go. Pieces came together, and he realized she told him to let go so he could open his long-guarded heart to Hermione.

With all his longing, aching heart, Snape knew he needed her.

He prayed somehow she would need him as well.


	7. When You Were Young

_"You sit there in your heartache  
Waiting on some beautiful boy to  
To save you from your old ways  
You play forgiveness  
Watch him now, here he come_

_He doesn't look a thing like Jesus  
But he talks like a gentleman  
Like you imagined when you were young  
(Talks like a gentleman)  
(Like you imagined when)  
When you were young_

_I said he doesn't look a thing like Jesus  
He doesn't look a thing like Jesus  
But more than you'll ever know."_

**"When You Were Young," **by The Killers

Yawning, Hermione pried her eyes open as the strident beeping of an alarm clock woke her up. Reaching out her hand to smack the snooze button, Hermione's eye caught a note stuck to the top of the alarm clock. She sat up, plucked the note free, and read it:

_Dear Hermione,_

_You've taken quite a catnap – five hours, if you woke up by the alarm clock! _

_Fear not – I have not abandoned you. I made sure the room was secure before I left. If you need to contact me, I will be within a mile radius. _

_Since today is our last day together, I've planned out quite a day for us. This morning, feel free to explore the area – relax, tour a few boutiques. I've left you a credit card with no spending limit._

_Please return to the hotel by 5PM. I shall have a surprise waiting for you._

_Sincerely,_

_Severus_

"Maybe I should take his advice," Hermione told herself. Stretching her arms wide, she arched her back like a cat and stepped out of bed, padding into the shower for a quick shower. There she let the hot water run down her back like hot little needles, hissing like snakes. There was something strange she felt when he was gone, like a hole always besides her, sucking in air.

After drying herself and brushing her hair, she tucked his note into her pocket, taking his advice and exiting the hotel room, wand tucked into the back of her jeans within easy reach for risk of vampire attacks. Breathing in the air and trying to make it feel like Sev was there with her, Hermione walked down the cobblestoned street, her lovely lion mane glowing gold as she browsed the shops. Behind her, two shades lurked at a good distance, unnoticed by anyone, bearing marks of the Ministry, silent protectors of this lovestruck young girl.

* * *

Snape arrived in the tiny Muggle tavern in the town, forcing his lanky frame through the door and into the darkness. As light fell dimly across the tables, he noticed the form of Kingsley Shacklebolt sitting tall in the booth. Gulping at the Minister's imposing stature, Snape suddenly knew how students felt when they walked into his class – frightened, hearts racing, instantly humbled. A thought passed of how Hermione must've been very courageous to walk into his class and challenge him daily. She must be bravest witch of all to say she loved him.

Severus's heart twisted with agonizing pleasure at the thought of her resiliency. _Oh, Hermione_, he told himself. _I do this for you_.

"Severus – good of you to come," Kingsley clipped, motioning for him to sit at the booth. "I was relieved you contacted me. You were wise to do so."

"I want Miss Granger to be safe." Softness edged his words.

"Tell me, Severus…why do you really want her back to us? Some boon you wish to make? Some position you wish to regain?" Shacklebolt's eyes gleamed agonizingly with the memory of Dumbledore's assassination. "You are not one to give without expectancy of recompense."

Snape's soul flinched and shivered at the memories of his wretched past. "I only wish to return her to you. Then I will go where you wish me to."

Kingsley leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. "You know this means prison for you. At least a year for the unauthorized use of a portkey, more for taking her with you and endangering her life."

"I am aware of this. I will go through with it."

Kingsley cocked an eyebrow, shocked. "You have changed, Severus. The old you would connive some way out of this. But…there is a change in you."

Severus finally met Kingsley's gaze. "She has brought upon the change. Hermione is the change in me."

So much intensity pulsed in Severus's deep, black eyes that nerves crawled and prickled in an icy wave across Shacklebolt's skin. "You speak the truth."

"I do, sir. And I will ask only one favor of you."

Kingsley knew it was coming. Hesitantly, he said, "Go on."

Snape looked so naked and bare, and it took all of his power to say the words. "Give me one more night with Hermione. To tell her goodbye."

An arrow of sympathy struck the soft part of Kingsley's heart and drunk itself with his blood. Severus Snape was not some power-hungry villain. He felt. He _loved_. It appeared to Shacklebolt that Snape had at least a shred of a soul left. "You may have this," Kingsley answered quietly. "One more night."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now go. I've sent two Ministry men to watch over you two. They will not pry, only make sure you are safely escorted from location to location. You won't ever notice them – they are watching Hermione now."

"Many thanks," Severus replied, standing and looking down at the man. "I will protect her until she is safe, and I promise she will return to you unscathed."

Kingsley nodded slowly and exchanged a glance before Snape left the small bar. What change had come over that once-dark man? In an instant of realization, Shacklebolt knew it was the hand of love, the only thing that could spin shadows into shimmering silver. Perhaps Hermione had touched him with her love, and if she had, then Merlin bless her for it.

* * *

Snape stepped along the sidewalk, back to their hotel, his heart a tangle of conflicting emotions. What would he tell her? He didn't know. But he knew he had one night to clean his soul of his secrets, and this would be it.

* * *

Returning to the hotel under a stack of shopping bags from numerous boutiques and shops, Hermione flopped on the hotel bed. She'd found the hotel room empty, but to her this was a relief – she was a wreck from all that retail therapy and she really didn't want Sev seeing her sweating like a pig. Besides the plethora of dresses she'd bought, Hermione went into a beauty salon and ordered the full treatment on the money-filled card Sev gave her – a full-body massage, a refreshing trimming of the hair, a pedicure, and a lovely manicure. The day had been healing, making her feel more like the young woman she was again, but at the same time, she'd missed being beside Snape.

Looking at the clock to see it was 4:45, Hermione noticed a gilt envelope sitting there with her name written on the outside in Sev's familiar spidery script. Cracking open the seal on it with her freshly-done French manicured nails, she pulled out the note inside:

_Dear Hermione,_

_I trust you have made it back to the hotel by now. I also trust you have noticed I am not there by now. _

_That is part of my gift to you. It is a surprise. It is our last night together, and I intend to make it special. _

_Look in your closet. There awaits your outfit for this evening. I picked it out for you, and I do hope you like it._

_At 6 o'clock sharp, a chauffeur will come meet you in front of the hotel and bring you to me. _

_I will see you then. Farewell, sweet Hermione._

_Sincerely, _

_Severus_

Rereading the note several times – and especially the part that said "sweet Hermione," Hermione pondered as to where Sev was, and her heart thumped for anticipation of the night to come. She folded up the note and went to their closet. Opening the doors, she gasped in wonder.

There was a strapless, red crushed-velvet evening dress that ran mid-thigh in length complete with a pair of red heels and a beautiful pearl necklace. With a sliding of fabrics, Hermione had tried on the dress to find it was just right – not too revealing, yet not too conservative, and it fit just right. Snape had picked out just the perfect outfit for her, and she just adored it. With a smile, she noticed a full black cloak hung on another hanger, one for her to wear when she went out to meet Sev. Now she really felt like a princess.

After straightening her long, lovely hair and putting on a crimson lipstick that made her lips look like rose petals, Hermione cinched the cloak around her scarlet outfit and made her way downstairs in the heels. As she got in the car and watched the French countryside roll by as they drove, she thought. Her heart beat at a thousand miles per hour, yet she knew something was happening. Maybe it was the stars aligning. Maybe it was the winds turning in her favor, for once.

Suddenly, Hermione knew it all at once.

Severus was her home, and that was where she was returning to as the car crunched the gravel pulling up in the roundabout of the isolated country chateau lit with torches up the driveway.

She feared the unknown. What if he was taken from her? What if he didn't feel the same way? What if this love she felt, so raw and powerful, flowed out like a torrent and he wanted to dam it up?

With a last inhale, Hermione summoned all her courage and stepped out of the car into the black velvet night…


End file.
